


Accusation

by cherrygoldlove, nebelkraehe



Category: Das Boot (TV 2018)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Das Boot Tv 2018, Desk Sex, Deutsch | German, F/M, France (Country), Gestapo, Gloves, Military Uniforms, Nazi Germany, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Period-Typical Sexism, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secretaries, Vaginal Sex, World War II, das boot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrygoldlove/pseuds/cherrygoldlove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebelkraehe/pseuds/nebelkraehe
Summary: Hagen Forster employed a new secretary, but is she really what she pretends to be?
Relationships: Hagen Forster/Original female Character, Hagen Forster/Secretary
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Accusation

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please be gentle :D my dear friend Cherrygoldlove was my help and beta :) So what do you think about the german parts of the story? Do you like to imagine their german voices, or is it an unnecessary distraction. I was utterly suprised about the lack of fics in this fandom, so I hope there will be more in the future :)

"Fräulein Hartmann!" the harsh calling of my name was followed by a loud slam on the desk, which made me flinch in my chair. 

I was the new secretary of Kriminalrat Hagen Forster. The only reason why I got an employment at the Gestapo headquarter was the good word my uncle put in for me. He was a high ranked party member, and knew a lot of the important officials.

I slowly raised from my chair, and tried to straighten the non existing wrinkles in my knee length grey skirt, to buy me some time. I took the few steps, opened the squeaky door to Forster's office, and the heavy air full of cigarette smoke made me cough a little bit. 

He was sitting behind his desk, piles of papers and documents were splayed out, and the lack of organisation surprised me a little bit. 

Forster was a strict man, following the rules, and to see this chaos on his desk, was a source of irritation in this otherwise clean and tidy office.

I wasn't employed here for long, this was my third week, but I never saw his desk being so untidy.

He wrote some notes on a paper, stubbed out the cigarette which he had been holding in his left hand in the nearby overflowing ashtray and addressed me without sparing me a glance. 

"Schließen Sie die Tür."

He waved his hand at the door, and I promptly did what he asked.

Today he was wearing a black suit, with a white shirt and a black tie, very formal. 

So he has a meeting after work. For sure in one of the fancy restaurants that the Germans claimed for their own, I thought for myself. 

"Fräulein Hartmann", he began speaking in his calm deep voice. 

I already expected to get dispraised, but the fact he was not raising his voice made it even more uncomfortable for me.

"Sie bekommen ein Gehalt um mir meine Arbeit zu erleichtern. Wenn ich jetzt auch noch meine verdammten Briefe selber tippen muss, damit diese fehlerfrei sind, verstehe ich nicht für was ich Sie bezahle." ("You receive your salary to make my work easier. But if I have to type my damn letters myself, so that they are faultless, I don't know what I'm paying you for.") And with this he threw a bunch of letters over the desk in my direction.

"Entschuldigen Sie Herr Kriminalrat", I stammered my apology, scolding myself for my lack of concentration. 

"Schon gut. Ich brauche die Briefe morgen Früh auf meinem Tisch. Fehlerfrei. Verstanden?" ("It's ok. I need the letters on my desk tomorrow morning. Faultless. Understood?") In the last two words he was looking me directly in the eyes, and all I was able to do was nod. 

I took the letters and left his office without making further excuses or noises.

The other secretaries were already putting their things together and starting to leave.

I took a look at the loud ticking clock in the hallway and sighed out loud. 

Already 6 o'clock meaning unpaid overtime, what a nice thing to spend the evening on. 

The others gave me a pitied look and left the office with some "Good bye, see you tomorrow" wishes. But there was no time for pitying myself. It was my own fault anyway, so I couldn't do anything besides finishing my task quickly. 

So I began to type all of the letters again. Half an hour later, Herr Forster also left his office, he closed the door, made a small nod into my direction, put his coat and hat on and made a quick leave. 

“There are just the two of us here now." I said to my typewriter. 

I looked outside the windows and it was already dark, again I sighed out loud, and continued my typing. 

Hours later, I finally finished the letters, double and triple checking them for mistakes. 

I stood up from my chair and had to stretch, my whole body was aching, and I really looked forward to going home. 

I took the letters and stepped into Forsters office. The window was slightly open, so the smell of cigarettes wasn't that strong anymore. I closed the window, and turned to the desk. The papers were still all over the place, and I thought about where to put my letters in the mids of this chaos. 

I decided to tidy up the desks surface a bit, hoping he’d notice my effort and forget about my mistakes quicker. I really needed to keep the job.

As I was sorting and piling the papers I suddenly heard the creak of the door. 

Forster was standing there, fully clothed in his grey military uniform including his decorations, the black leather coat laid over his arm. 

I wanted to say something but he interrupted me with a small laugh, before I could bring out one syllable. 

He took one step closer to me, the heavy black boots making the wooden surface of the floor creak. 

He took off his military cap, and put it on the nearby hatstand, followed by his coat. 

I was frozen in place, watching him calmly put his cap and coat on the stand, and how he then slowly approached me, leaving no space between him and the desk and me. 

He was standing so close to me, I could smell the alcohol and cigars on him, mixed with his distinctive aftershave. 

He leaned his head down, so his mouth was close to my ear, and he whispered "Wer bist du?" ("Who are you?") Before I could splutter an answer, he laid his right, leather clad, hand around my throat and slightly began to squeeze. Not enough that I couldn't breath, but strong enough to cause me panic. "Bist du auch von der Resistance? Seht ihr nicht ein, daß ihr chancenlos seid?" ("Are you also a member of the resistance? When will you accept, that you will not stand a chance?") 

"Nein, ich bin nicht...ich habe nur" I stammered my poor explanation. He chuckled, straightened his back, and forced me to look at him by pushing up my chin. 

With a light smile he gave me a kiss on my lips, which took me by surprise. 

"Bist du die nächste, die mich verraten wird?" ("Are you going to be the next to betray me?") 

"Herr Forster nein, ich bin nicht von der Resistance, ich wollte nur aufräumen" ("Mister Forster, I'm not from the resistance, I just wanted to tidy up") even I wouldn't believe my trembling words and shy voice, but it was the truth. 

Forster only laughed to himself, and I got really worried, because he was known for his new found paranoia, caused by what happened months ago. 

"Beweise es" ("Prove it") he ordered. 

My answer was a puzzled face, I didn't know what he wanted to hear, and so I slightly opened my mouth and wanted to say something when he interrupted me with a harsh "Auf die Knie" ("On your knees"). 

I thought I misheard him, so I answered with a flustered "Wie bitte?" ("What?") 

I saw that he was losing his patience. Trembling I got down on my knees and looked up into his face. 

His eyes were clouded, unseeing, and in an almost mechanical way he reached to his belt and undid it.

I looked directly on the Reichsadler, which was sitting prominently on the buckle. 

I swallowed hard. It was obvious what he wanted, and I wasn't tired of my life so I didn't even think to refuse him. 

With shaking hands I opened his trousers and took out his already hard cock. 

He was a handsome and cultivated guy, so I assumed that it could be worse and with that thought I took his swollen cock into my mouth. 

He instantly moaned out loud and grabbed my hair with both of his hands. He controlled my back and forth movements, and I had to concentrate not to gag. 

Suddenly he stopped, slid his cock out of my mouth and let me breath for a moment. I was dragged from the reprieve with a sharp tug to my hair, bending my head backwards, so I was again looking up to him. 

Saliva ran slowly down the side of my mouth as he watched me with a blank expression. 

Then his face twisted, maybe with some kind of remorse, because then he let go of my hair and wiped the saliva away from my face with the back of his hand.

He took my arm and lifted me up, dragging me to perch down on the edge of his desk. 

My eyes were watering, when he suddenly took my face in both hands and kissed me. 

To my surprise I kissed him back. 

At first it was gentle, his smooth lips glided easily against mine, then he nudged a thumb into the side of my lips and opened my mouth with his thumb.

He hadn’t taken his gloves off so now I could smell and taste the leather on my tongue, and it turned me on. 

Shamelessly, I moaned into his mouth. 

He took that as a permission to slide his other hand up my thigh, dragging my skirt upwards as his hand kneaded my round hip.

He was growing impatient though, the touch turned forceful again and he tore my panties apart. It hurt a bit to have the material bite into my skin for a brief moment before it tore and slid down my thighs, falling to the floor.

He took his cock in hand, and let it glide through my wet folds, stopping briefly on my clit, letting the fat, hot, wet head of his cock rub up and down against it, making me gasp.

It felt really good and I let my head fall back in pleasure. Suddenly he nudged his cock lower and entered me without any warning. 

My breath hitched at the prompt stretch and Foster moaned against my ear. 

He didn't wait for me to get accustomed to him, he started pounding into me. 

As I began to moan louder, he put his gloved hand over my mouth, stifling my noises, and I realised there were still guards around in the building, and surely he didn't want to get caught in action.

With the other hand he grabbed my leg to lift it up, so he had perfect access to my cunt. 

Forster varied the speed, and at some point let his hand slide off my mouth, to draw circles around my clit with his thumb. 

I tried to be as silent as possible, when I felt that I was getting close to reaching my orgasm. 

It felt really good, but then Forster abruptly pulled out, and came onto my thighs, some of the sperm landing on my skirt. 

After his climax he leant over me, stabilising himself with both arms on the desk. His heavy breathing slowly became more silent. 

After a few seconds, he straightened up, tucked his spent cock into his trousers and straightened his suit. He completely ignored me as he leaned closer to take something out of the first drawer of his desk as I was still perched, frozen, on the edge of his desk. My skirt bunched up around my middle and his sperm cooling on my skin.

Not sparing me even a glance, he took his coat and left the office. 

I was left sitting in deafening silence as I slowly tried to wrap my head around what has happened. 

I couldn't understand it.

From one second to the other tears started to run down my face, a sob raising in my throat.

With clumsy, trembling hands I pulled my skirt back down, smoothing out the wrinkles and wincing as the material pressed the cold spunk into the hot skin of my thighs before soaking it up into wet patches.

Wrapped up in my head I jumped in fright when an armed soldier appeared in Forsters office. 

"Mitkommen".("Follow me") Was the only word he yelled at me. 

So Forster didn't believe me that I was only a secretary! I started crying in earnest, screaming, as the soldier dragged me violently out the office doors and down through the dark, cold corridors.


End file.
